A Long Time Dead
by dnachemlia
Summary: So much can change in a single moment. A simple task turns into a nightmare for the members of the MCRT. Written as a hangman prize for Sazzita and for the NFA Ready! Aim! Misfire! Oops! Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**A Long Time Dead**

Written as a hangman prize fic for Sazzita and for the NFA Ready! Aim! Misfire! Oops! Challenge.

Genre: Drama/Angst. Mild McGiva in later chapters because Sazzy asked for it ;) Not a Deathfic (for canon characters, at least)

Rating: FR15/T

Characters: Tim, Tony, Ziva, Ducky, Gibbs, Abby, other canon characters and OCs

Warnings: Language (an f-bomb or two), violence.

Disclaimer: Don't own. C'est la vie.

Summary: So much can change in a single moment. A simple task turns into a nightmare for the members of the MCRT.

* * *

Chapter 1

Tim McGee leaned back in his chair just in time to see a paper ball fly past his nose. He sighed and closed his eyes, lacking the energy to send the thrower a well deserved glare.

"You missed."

"I meant to do that, Probie. I was just demonstrating my perfect sense of timing."

"Right, you knew I was going to lean back at that precise moment."

"I'm a highly trained special agent. I anticipate."

"Whatever you say, Tony," Tim retorted, too tired to even argue with the older man. He opened his eyes and turned his attention back to the report he was writing. After typing in the final notes, he saved the report and then sent it to the printer. When he rose to retrieve it he noticed Tony staring at him with an odd expression on his face.

"What?"

"You OK?"

Tim sighed. No, he definitely _wasn't_ OK, but he wasn't about to share that fact with the senior agent.

"I'm fine. It's just been a bad week," he replied and winced when his voiced cracked slightly. He knew Tony would pick up on his weakness and waited for the expected teasing. Instead, Tony lowered his voice as his expression softened.

"It was a justified shooting, Tim. You know this. Vance already cleared you."

"It doesn't change the fact that I shot a kid."

"That 'kid' was eighteen, and he raped and murdered a fourteen-year-old girl. He would have killed _you_ if you hadn't taken him out first. He's not worth torturing yourself, Tim."

"I know. I just… I just wish I could have talked him down. I tried…"

"Some you just can't save, Probie, especially from themselves."

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't make it any easier, though."

Tony patted his shoulder. "Best to take our minds off of it altogether. Come on, let's get out of here and go blow off some steam."

"Not tonight, Tony, I—"

"If you say 'I have a headache' I will smack you."

Tim turned to glare at his partner, but couldn't maintain the expression when he saw Tony's goofy grin. He let out a soft huff of laughter.

"Actually, I do, but I was going to say that I'd rather just go home and get some sleep. I haven't had much this week. None of us have, really."

"True, but I know you, McGee. You're not going to get any sleep until you decompress a little."

"I'll be fine, Tony. Maybe tomorrow night we can all go."

"I'm holding you to that, Probie."

"Yeah, I figured." Tim gathered up the stack of papers from the printer, signed the last page, and slipped them into a folder which he placed on Gibbs' desk. He then grabbed his bag from under his own desk and turned to his partner.

"Goodnight, Tony. Tell Ziva I'll see her tomorrow, too."

"Will do. See ya, McGee."

Tim made the routine trip home, thankful for the late hour since it meant less traffic, and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally stepped inside his apartment. He dropped his bag by the front door, secured his weapon in the lock-box, and went to his room to change into sweats and a t-shirt. He then headed for the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet to retrieve some ibuprofen, signing in disbelief when he lifted the bottle and shook it.

"Damn it, Sarah. When will you learn _not_ to put an empty bottle back in the cabinet?"

His headache was bad enough that he knew he'd have trouble falling asleep, but he really didn't feel like making a run to the closest drug store. There was a convenience store on the corner, and they'd probably have something, he'd just have to pay a lot more for it. He debated the pros and cons for a moment and then sighed. He'd really have to have a talk with Sarah about her bad habit, but in the meantime, he needed some relief. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser and slipped on a pair of old running shoes before heading out the door. Luckily it was less than a block to the store, and a quick walk would get his blood flowing and help his headache a little.

A few minutes later he arrived at the store and stepped inside. It was nearly empty. He quickly walked past the only other customer in the store, a petite young woman, and soon reached the section that contained a limited selection of over-the-counter medicines. He reached for a small package of generic pain reliever and paused when he heard raised voices coming from the front of the store.

"Be cool, man, and nobody gets hurt."

_Oh, crap…_

He turned and saw two men in ski masks, one with his gun pointed at the cashier, and the other turning to look down the aisle where Tim and the woman stood. The man raised his gun and pointed it towards them.

"Nobody move."

Silently Tim cursed himself for leaving his weapon at home. He slowly raised his hands and stepped forward, causing the man to focus his attention on the agent.

"I said don't move!"

Tim froze. The man's hands were shaking slightly, and his finger was already on the trigger. Tim doubted the man would hesitate to shoot and he slowly nodded to show his cooperation.

"Just calm down…"

"Shut up! Don't move, don't talk. Got it?"

Tim nodded again, but his mind raced. What would Gibbs do?

_Get the civilian out of the line of fire…_

He glanced at the young woman who stood a few paces in front of him. She was facing the gunman, trembling in fear, with her intended purchases clutched tightly in both hands. Tim felt his heart sink when he registered what she was holding: a package of diapers and a can of baby formula.

_I've got to get her out of here. _

He turned his attention back to the gunman and slowly inched forward when the man was distracted by his partner, who was loudly demanding that the cashier move faster. Tim had almost reached the woman, when…

_*BOOM*_

He looked up in time to see the cashier sink below the level of the counter, his head half gone.

"Man, what the _fuck!_" The second gunman threw his arms out to the side, the gun still gripped tightly in one hand. "The hell is the matter wit' you? Cops are gonna be all over yo' ass!"

Suddenly, Tim knew exactly what was going to happen, just before it did. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched the gunman's hand swing towards the spot where the woman stood, finger tightening on the trigger. Tim surged forward as he tried to push her out of harm's way, but before he could make contact, the gun went off.

Tim heard a soft cry and barely registered the sudden burning pain as he saw a large patch of red bloom on the back of the woman's blouse. He barely managed to catch her as she slumped backward and the two of them fell to the floor, sending a wave of agony through his chest. He did his best to ignore it as he struggled to help the woman, pressing his hands over the wounds, but the hot rush of liquid continued to flow over his hands.

"It's OK, you're going to be OK…" His gasped words of comfort rang hollow in his ears as he stared into her eyes, hoping to keep her focused and grounded. Wide brown eyes stared back as she took one gasping breath, and then he saw the vitality in those eyes fade out completely as her body went limp.

"No…" His own breaths were painful, and felt himself growing weaker by the moment. He barely managed to look up at the gunman, just in time to hear another loud _*BOOM*_ and see the man fall at the hands of his partner in crime. The shooter stepped around the body and walked toward Tim, raising the gun and pointing it at the agent's head. Tim stared up at the man and saw no emotion in the dark eyes behind the mask, no humanity in that gaze. He saw the shooter's finger tighten on the trigger, and Tim gritted his teeth, waiting for the end.

_*CLICK*_

He heard a loud curse and watched, helpless, as the man pulled the trigger again.

_*CLICK*_

Suddenly the man flipped the gun in his grip and raised his hand over his head. Tim barely had time to register what was happening before a sudden stab of pain jolted through his head and bright burst of light flared across his vision, followed by crushing darkness.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

A Long Time Dead

* * *

Chapter 2

Ziva stepped through the door to Autopsy and paused, looking and listening for signs of the usual occupants. She knew Palmer had left hours ago, but she had hoped to find Ducky still around. The M.E. had often provided both a sympathetic ear for the young agent to voice her concerns and advice regarding those concerns. It was something she needed, especially after the events earlier that day, but it appeared that luck was not with her. The cold, silent room was deserted.

She walked over to the closest table and stared down at its surface, all to aware of how close they had come to seeing one of their own lying there… _another_ one of their own. Ziva still felt each loss the team had experienced over the years, even though she was normally able to hide those feelings. Tonight, they were too close to the surface, and she let out one long shuddering breath as she tried to keep them under control.

"Ziva?"

She spun around, surprised and relieved to find the person she had sought now standing in the doorway.

"Ducky…I was looking for you."

He studied her for a moment and nodded. "I had a suspicion I might see you yet this evening, my dear. Come, have a seat and I'll start a pot of tea."

"Thank you, Ducky, but I do not want you to go to the trouble. I am sure you must be tired."

"No more than usual. What's on your mind?"

Ziva hesitated, unsure of how to express exactly what she was feeling. Finally she decided on how to start.

"Do you remember when Dr. Cranston came to observe the team and to do our psych evaluations?"

Ducky's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I do."

"She asked me what I want…with my life, with my job. I told her I want something permanent."

"Understandable."

"Today, I realized… I suppose I already knew, but I… _nothing_ we have is permanent. It is too easy to lose what is important… even when we may not know how important it is at the time."

"I take it this realization has something to do with the shooting earlier today…and Timothy."

"He…he is not usually in the line of fire, Ducky, and today, if that boy had been a better shot…"

"You could have lost someone very dear to you."

"He has always been my friend. I told him once, you know, that he is not just any partner. I…I care for him." She took a deep breath. "I care for him more than as a friend." She let out a soft laugh. "I think I have known this for awhile, but today…"

"Your true feelings for him were made apparent to you. Have you discussed this at all with Timothy?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he… he deserves someone better."

"Ziva…"

"He has… There is still an innocence to him. Despite all we have seen and done, he still believes that there is some good in people and I… I have a lot of difficulty with trust, and many reasons for that difficulty. I do not want my past to bring him this pain as well. He does not deserve that."

"So you believe that you would not be good for him, even though he is what _you_ may truly need."

"Yes, and it would be selfish to draw him into my problems. I do not want to damage our friendship."

"Shouldn't Timothy get a say in this as well?"

"I do not know if he feels the same way. I am afraid that if I brought it up, he would think it was a joke, or a prank."

"Ziva, my dear, Timothy knows that he means a lot to you, and you are not one for such games, at least not where he is concerned. I don't think you're giving him enough credit. At least try talking to him, see where his feelings lie."

"He does not reveal that side of himself well…most of the time."

"You are concerned about his feelings for Abby." Ducky sighed. "I have watched their interactions for years, Ziva, and I…as much as we all care for Abigail, I do not think she will be able to give him what _he_ needs."

"And you think _I_ can?"

"You said it yourself: you want something permanent, a stable, loving relationship, both giving _and_ receiving, I imagine." Ziva slowly nodded. "Yet you do not believe you deserve what Timothy could most certainly give you. I think you are selling yourself short, my dear."

"Ducky, I—"

"_Talk_ to him, Ziva. You will never know until you discuss this with Timothy himself. The best relationships start with good communication, good friendship. The couples that last are friends first, because friends find it easier to forgive us our trespasses."

"I…you are right. Then again, you usually are," she added with a smile. Ducky grinned in return.

"Now if someone could just convince _Jethro_ of that..."

Ziva laughed and felt most of her anxiety melt away. "Thank you, Ducky." She gave him a brief hug.

"You are quite welcome, my dear. Good luck."

Ducky left, and Ziva took the elevator back to the bullpen, wondering just what exactly she could say to McGee to get him to listen to her confession. When the doors opened, she stepped out, immediately looking for her partner, and was surprised to find his desk unoccupied.

"Where is McGee?"

"Finished up and left. I invited him out for a drink, but he said he wanted to get home and get some sleep. Why?"

"Just wondering how he is handling what happened today."

"Like he usually does: keeping it to himself. I figured I'd swing by his place on the way home and check on him."

"You…you have had a long day as well, Tony. Why don't you let me check on McGee?"

He stared at her for a moment and she steadily returned his gaze, keeping her expression as neutral as possible.

"Just why are you plotting, my little ninja?"

"Nothing. I simply wish to be there for my partner, should he require it."

Tony's fake grin faltered and he sighed. "Yeah, he's going to need something. I just got a call from the hospital. The kid he shot didn't make it."

"Damn it. McGee did not need that. He was already feeling guilty about the shooting."

"Yeah, I know. He's too decent for his own damn good."

Ziva bristled unconsciously. "That is not a weakness, Tony."

"Never said it was," he replied, obviously surprised at her tone. "Are you sure there's nothing else going on?"

"No, nothing. Good night, Tony. Do not bother McGee with this tonight. I will check on him, and I will see you tomorrow."

"Okay…" Ziva could tell Tony suspected something was off, but he apparently had decided to give her some space. "G'night, Ziva."

She grabbed her bag from her desk and hurried to the elevator, happy to dodge her other partner's scrutiny, at least for now.

After she reached her car and drove it out of the Yard, headed toward McGee's place, she started to wonder how to approach the subject that had been occupying her thoughts since the shooting. She knew she was not good at opening up to others, a trait she shared with McGee. This was going to take a great deal of work, she decided, yet she felt that it really would be worth the effort. The problem was that she still did not really know how to even start.

She was almost to McGee's apartment and was passing the small convenience store on the corner when she saw a man open the front door and run down the street away from her. She registered that he was wearing a mask and held a gun in one hand and she immediately pulled over, drawing her weapon as she stepped from the car.

"FREEZE! Federal Agent!"

The man dodged down an alley and she started to run after him. She reached the corner and stopped, flattening herself against the wall before taking a quick look down the alley. The man was nowhere in sight.

"Damn it!"

She cautiously made her way down the alley and discovered that it ended in a T: one exit went down into a parking garage and the other went behind the store itself. Neither route gave evidence of the suspect. With a huff of anger, she pulled out her phone to call for back-up and headed back to the store to secure the scene of the apparent crime. _So much for checking in on McGee…_

"_Emergency services, how may I direct your call."_

"Suspected armed robbery at the Gas N Go on 17th and Westwood, NW. Suspect has fled the scene, federal officer requesting backup."

"_Your name?"_

"Special Agent Ziva David, NCIS." She reached the door and, after covering her hand with her sleeve, wrenched it open. She swore when she viewed what lay within.

"_Agent David?"_

"There are casualties." She looked behind the counter and recoiled slightly in disgust. "The cashier is dead, and I see at least one other victim." She noticed the gun near his hand and the mask he wore. "It appears that one of the perpetrators was also killed during the commission of the crime."

"_Police are on their way. Are there any victims that are still alive?"_

Ziva cautiously moved forward, scanning the room for more suspects. She stepped around the dead gunman, glanced down the center aisle and swore again. "I see two more victims." She crouched down to check the pulse of the woman. "One dead." She then turned her attention the man crumpled beneath the woman with his hands covering her wounds and froze.

"Oh, no…" Underneath the blood which covered half of his face, Ziva could see that the man was McGee. "No, please, no…"

"_Agent David?"_

Ziva reached forward with a trembling hand and placed two fingers against her friend's neck. She almost collapsed in relief when she felt a beat beneath her fingers, but the rhythm was far from strong or steady.

"Send the ambulance, now!" she screamed into the phone as she fell to her knees beside McGee and tried to rouse him. "McGee? Tim? Can you hear me?" She patted his face, gently at first, then harder as her actions failed to wake him. "Tim, please…"

"_Agent David, the ambulance is on its way. How was the victim injured?"_

"He…" She looked him over, noticed the large red stain on his chest and finally saw the hole. "He has been shot in the chest, and I think in the head. I…he is not responding to me." She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and tried to cover the chest wound with one hand and the head wound with the other.

"_Vitals?"_

"His pulse is weak and fast." She leaned down to listen. "He is barely breathing. Please, Tim, do not…do not leave me. Please."

"_ETA is five minutes. Is he still bleeding?"_

"Yes, I am trying to stop it, but…there is too much. They need to hurry!"

"_I'll tell them. Agent David, I need you to stay calm—"_

"I AM calm!" She checked McGee's pulse again. It was getting weaker. "Tim, stay with me, please…you do not have permission to leave me, Tim. Do you understand me? Gibbs would not give you permission. You always do what he says. Please, Tim, you do not want to let him down, do you? You do not want to let _me _down, or Tony, or Abby…or Sarah. Your sister needs you, Tim. We _all_ need you."

"_Agent David, the police should be there at any moment—"_

"Call NCIS. Tim…McGee is one of our people. He needs us…"

"_I'll inform the chief, Agent David."_

Suddenly she heard a commotion coming from the front of the store and looked up as a man in a patrolman's uniform appeared at the head of the aisle.

"Agent David? Officer Jim Caldwell. What happened?"

She quickly explained what she had seen as she remained focused on McGee. His breathing had grown even more shallow and she was terrified that it would stop altogether before the ambulance arrived. Finally she looked up to see two paramedics with their kit and a stretcher. They took one look at McGee and immediately began to work on him, unceremoniously pushing Ziva aside as they tried to stabilize the wounded man. She stayed close, still speaking to McGee and telling him that he would be fine. She caught the expression of one of the paramedics and sent him a glare worthy of Gibbs.

"He will make it."

"Yes, Ma'am." He spoke into his shoulder mic. "Gunshot vic, multiple wounds, have two units of O-neg ready for us." He looked up at his partner. "Ready?" The man nodded and they moved McGee to the stretcher and strapped him down.

"Let's go." The men lifted the stretcher and started towards the front door. Ziva rose and immediately followed, holding up one hand before the men could respond.

"I am going with you."

"There's not much room—"

"I do not care. He will not be alone."

"Fine, just stay out of the way."

Officer Caldwell saw her leaving and tried to block her path.

"Agent David, Detective Sportelli is on his way, he's going to want—"

"You can tell him where to find me. Tell Gibbs as well." She brushed past him and followed the EMTs to the ambulance, her thoughts and prayers focused on her friend. Right now, nothing else mattered.

TBC…

* * *

OK, so it's going to be 4 chapters. Damn muse…


	3. Chapter 3

A Long Time Dead

Chapter 3

Tony lowered himself onto his sofa, carefully balancing the plate of re-heated pizza in one hand and a beer in the other. He had fully intended to go out to a bar to "decompress", as he had urged McGee to do, but when he reached his car in the parking lot adjacent to NCIS, he had decided to head home instead.

He set his beer on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, hoping to find some mindless sitcom on repeat to serve as background noise while he went over what had happened over the course of his day. He was still worried about McGee, and he knew everything would just get worse when his partner learned what had happened to the kid he shot. Tim had a bad habit of over-thinking things, and Tony knew the younger man well enough to predict his reaction. It wouldn't be pretty, but the senior agent was ready to perform his duties and help his Probie through another tough situation.

His thoughts soon turned to his other partner. Ziva had tried to hide it, but he could see she was badly shaken by what had happened. At first it didn't make much sense: they all faced armed perpetrators quite frequently, and they always dealt with it. Tim was not usually the one being shot at, it was true, but still… Tony decided this one needed further investigation. He would have a talk with the Probette in the morning.

Tony raised the beer bottle to his lips, ready to take a sip, when his cell phone rang. He checked the number and groaned. _Great timing, Gibbs._

"Yeah, Boss?"

"_Need you to meet me at a crime scene_." Gibbs' voice sounded strange, and Tony was immediately on alert.

"Where?"

"_Gas N Go on Westwood and 17__th__. Robbery went south." _The strange tension in the boss' voice hadn't eased, and Tony felt a twist in his gut as he set his beer and plate on the coffee table.

"What's going on, Gibbs?"

Silence, and then Gibbs' voice returned. "_McGee. He was shot."_

Tony's heart climbed into his throat. "Is he…?"

"_Hospital. They sent him to the Shock-Trauma unit of Franklin Memorial."_

Tony rose from the sofa, nearly on autopilot as he grabbed his badge, ID, gun, and bag.

"Where was he hit?"

"_Chest…and head."_

_Oh God…_ An image flashed in his mind: another partner, lying on her back with a bullet hole in the center of her forehead. He shook his head to erase it and found his voice again.

"Have you…do you need me to call Ziva?"

"_She found him and called it in. She's at the hospital with him."_

Tony swore silently and a sudden suspicion popped into his mind.

"Do you think this has anything to do with-?"

"_That's what we're gonna find out, DiNozzo."_

"Right. Boss, I-." The line went dead and Tony snapped his phone shut as he rushed through his apartment door, slamming it behind him.

He ran to his car, alternating between swearing and praying, and peeled out of the parking lot as he headed towards McGee's neighborhood. Traffic was still light, and he made it there in near-record time. He was not surprised to find Gibbs already there, nose to nose with a familiar but unfriendly face.

"My agent, my scene, Sportelli," Gibbs growled and Tony winced. This was going to get ugly.

"He was off-duty, and my three civilian casualties trump your injured agent, Gibbs."

"Two civilians, one perp."

"That hasn't been confirmed."

"Are you questioning my agent's judgment?"

"Not at all. Just covering all of my bases." Sportelli sighed. "Look, Gibbs, I understand, but I'm following protocol, and—" His phone rang, interrupting his statement and he answered it. "Sportelli. Yes, sir. Yes. Sir, I…yes, I understand. Thank you, sir." He snapped the phone shut and turned to Gibbs.

"Looks like your boss and my boss have been dealing. You get charge of the physical evidence and video, my people handle the interviews, and our M.E. will deal with the bodies. I already have a team out searching for the man seen fleeing the scene, but he was wearing a mask so they don't have much to go on. Maybe the security video will tell us more." He nodded to one of his officers, who brought him a video tape in an evidence bag. "Keep us in the loop, Gibbs."

"You, too." Gibbs took the tape from the officer and signed the custody form before turning to Tony. "Call Abby and tell her we've got a case coming in, then supervise the rest of the evidence collection."

"Boss, have you heard-?"

"As soon as Ducky gets here I'm sending him to the hospital to check on McGee. Sportelli already sent someone to talk to Ziva."

"But—"

"The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can catch this bastard, DiNozzo. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, Boss." Tony knew better to argue with Gibbs in his current state and he headed in to the scene.

Once everything was documented and collected, Tony and Gibbs transferred the evidence they had back to NCIS. Abby was waiting for them in the lab. Gibbs told her what had happened, and dealt with her hysterics while Tony stood back, his mind on what could be happening to McGee. Ducky had called to tell them McGee was in surgery, and that he would call again as soon as he knew anything. He also told them that Ziva had insisted on staying and he felt it would be unwise to argue. Much to Tony's surprise Gibbs had agreed.

Finally Gibbs had Abby calm enough to start working on the video. She cued it up and they watched camera's bird's eye view of the events. They saw McGee enter the store and head towards the section where he stopped and selected a package. _Pain killers_, Tony thought and groaned inwardly. _Probie really did have a headache._ He was surprised that McGee hadn't had any at home and briefly wondered why his "be prepared" mentality had failed at the worst possible time.

They saw the two gunmen enter the store and threaten the cashier and customers, and then watched in surprise as Tim inched forward towards the other customer while the second gunman was distracted.

"He was trying to get to her. To get her out of the way," Abby whispered and the men winced as they witnessed McGee's attempt to do what he knew was right.

Abby gasped in shock when the clerk was shot, and Tony felt the same sinking sensation he was sure his partner had felt when he saw the second gunman waving his weapon around. They saw McGee try to push the woman out of the way and winced when the gun went off, knocking her back into McGee and sending both to the ground. They could see he was trying to help her, and could also immediately see his efforts were for nothing. They all stared in shock as the first shooter turned his gun on his partner, and Abby hid her face in Gibbs chest as the man pointed his gun at McGee and strode towards the fallen agent. The man pulled the trigger and when the gun didn't fire, he pulled it again. Tony and Gibbs both swore as they watched the man bring the butt of the gun down across McGee's head and the young man fell to the floor. The gunman then ran from the store, never revealing his face to the camera.

Gibbs comforted Abby while Tony turned away from the screen, wanting desperately to punch something. He turned back in time to see Ziva appear on the screen and watched with growing horror as she checked the bodies and obviously realized the identity of the last victim. He couldn't tell what she was saying, but from her posture and the way she was speaking to McGee, he knew what she had to be feeling, and the mystery of her earlier behavior suddenly became all too clear.

"Oh, God…"

"Gibbs, tell me he's going to be OK. Please…" Abby sobbed.

"I don't get it. When did he get shot?" Tony murmured.

"One shot, two victims," Gibbs replied and suddenly he understood.

"The bullet went all the way through the woman, and hit… aw, damn."

"Anything else you can tell me about the shooter, Abbs?"

It took her a moment to pull herself together enough to respond. "No, Gibbs. Just height and general build. The picture quality isn't good enough to get an idea of the shape of his face, and he wore gloves, so no prints." She stopped and looked over at the box of evidence before rushing over to the table to dig through the box. Finally she held up two bags, each containing a small plastic jar. "Cartridge casings. I can get the gun type, maybe some prints." She carried the evidence to the ballistics lab, muttering to herself, and the two men watched her work in silence.

"The ammo is Federal, from a 0.45." She scanned the ends of the cartridge casings to get a digital image which she put up on the screen. "Pretty distinctive firing pin mark. If this gun was used for anything before I'm sure I can find it in NIBIN. I'm going to find this bastard, Gibbs. I swear I will."

"I believe you, Abbs."

They watched her work for several more minutes as she searched the cartridges for prints. "Got a partial. I'll see if I can get enough points for an IAFIS search." She carefully lifted the print and placed it in the scanner, which sent the image to her computer. "I see seven. That should be good enough for a search."

"Good job, Abby," Gibbs said as he put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"Not good enough yet, Gibbs. Not until I find him."

Tony could see that Abby was strung tighter than drum, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Abby, if you need to take a break…"

"I can't, Tony. I need to help Timmy." Suddenly she turned and glared at the two men. "What are you still doing here? You should be checking on him!"

"Ducky and Ziva are with him-."

"But he needs all of you! Now go! Tell him he has to be alright, Gibbs. You have to tell him that."

"I will, Abbs. Come on, DiNozzo."

"Boss?"

Gibbs lowered his voice and moved close to Tony. "She'll deal with this in her own way. Let's go."

"On your six, Boss."

XXX

Ziva sat in the far corner of the waiting room. The hard plastic chair in which she was sitting was far from comfortable but she barely noticed. All of her concentration was focused on her concern for McGee. She had heard the doctors talking as they rushed McGee to the O.R., and the consensus among them seemed to be that their patient was not going to make it. Ziva had felt a rush of anger at their presumption: they did not know her partner. He was a fighter. He had to be to survive on Gibbs' team, they all did. She could only hope that tenacity which he displayed while involved in a case would help him now.

The detective from Metro had left just as Ducky arrived, and the kindly M.E. had tried his best to comfort her, but she had been too worried to focus on what he was saying. He had been allowed to join the doctors in the O.R. as an observer, and Ziva had been left alone again. She had prayed silently for her friend, and as the hours passed, she grew more worried that she would never see him, alive and whole, ever again.

Finally Gibbs and Tony arrived. They told her what they had learned so far, and she felt some small relief when she heard that McGee had not been shot in the head, but the true cause if his injuries made her blood boil. She wished out loud for five minutes alone with the man when they caught him.

"I think you'd have to get in line, Ziva."

"No. I will be first, and there will be nothing left for anyone else."

Tony watched her silently for several moments before moving off to question one of the nurses about McGee. She had nothing to tell him, and soon he returned to sit beside Ziva.

"He's going to be OK, Ziva."

"Everyone has been saying that, Tony. I wish I could believe it. You did not _see_ him…"

"I saw the tape. It was bad enough." He raised his head to watch Gibbs pace and lowered his voice. "My fault."

"How is it your fault, Tony?"

"If I'd pushed him a little bit more to go out for drinks, he wouldn't have been there."

"You could not have known, Tony. None of us were prepared for this."

"You were in the neighborhood, checking up on him. At least you helped him."

"I wish I could have done more."

They both lapsed back into silence and the minutes, then hours, ticked by. Ziva was dozing lightly, he head against the wall, when she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. She immediately sat up and stared at the newcomer.

"Detective Sportelli. What are you doing here?"

"How's McGee?"

"Still in surgery," Gibbs answered from his seat next to Tony. "What's going on?"

"We think we got the guy who did this, Gibbs. One of our patrolmen saw a man in that same area acting suspicious, and when he confronted him the suspect turned his gun on him. The suspect missed, out patrolman didn't. He searched him and found a gun with blood and hair on the end of the grip. We sent it to your lab for confirmation, but we suspect it was the same gun used on McGee."

"Where is the suspect now?"

"Dead," Sportelli replied. "I told you, our patrolman didn't miss."

"If it _is_ the same man, he got off far too easy."

"For once I agree with you, Agent David." He turned to Gibbs. "The guy fits the description of a suspect wanted in a series of robberies in the area, so it looks like he doesn't have a connection to your case. I just wanted to let you know it's over, and that I hope your agent pulls through."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Sportelli left and they settled back in to wait. Finally they saw Ducky approach, still dressed in scrubs and looking as weary as they all felt. They all stood, but Gibbs was the first to speak.

"How is he, Duck?"

"Timothy survived the surgery, although he did have several close calls. He's being carefully monitored in recovery before they move him to the ICU."

"But he's going to be OK, right?"

"At this point, Anthony, we are not sure. I'll let his doctor explain, but he is by no means out of the woods yet."

Ziva felt her eyes start to sting and she managed to blink back the tears. "When will you know, Ducky?"

"Right now, Ziva, all we can do is wait and see."

Before she could protest the lack on information she was receiving another doctor appeared and introduced himself as the chief surgeon who had worked on McGee.

"Dr. Mallard has informed me, as Agent McGee's medical proxy, that I am allowed to share information on his condition with you. I must ask, has anyone contacted his family?"

"His parents and grandmother are currently out of the country, but his sister should be here tomorrow," Gibbs replied.

"I see. As I'm sure Dr. Mallard has told you, Agent McGee's condition is critical. We removed a bullet from his right lung and dealt with the pneumothorax that resulted from the wound, but that is not currently our greatest concern. The head wound was a result of blunt force trauma, but the damage it caused was severe, producing a skull fracture and intracranial bleeding and swelling. We've put in shunts to relieve the pressure, which will need to be monitored closely for at least forty-eight hours, and quite possibly longer. If all goes well, Agent McGee _might_ regain consciousness in a few days, but he might not. Until he does, we won't know the full extent of the damage."

"What could the damage be?" asked Ziva in a shaky voice, and Gibbs put an arm around her shoulder.

"It is quite possible he will have some memory losses and I doubt he will remember the incident that led to his injuries. It will certainly take him some time to return to normal function, but if there is too much damage…he may never return to 'normal'. As I said, we need to wait until he wakes up to assess him, and there is still that chance that he won't wake up."

"He'll wake up," declared Gibbs. "And he'll be back to normal."

"I hope you're correct, Mr…?"

"Agent Gibbs."

"When can we see him?"

"As soon as he's settled into ICU. I've already been informed by Dr. Mallard that keeping you all away will be an impossible task, but I must insist that you limit your visits to one or two people at a time. I do believe that having friends and family close by is beneficial to coma patients, but my staff will need room to work. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Good. I'll have a nurse come and get you when Agent McGee is ready for visitors."

"Thanks, Doc."

The surgeon nodded and left as the group turned to Ducky.

"I agree with what Dr. Ahern has said, but I also know Timothy. He's as stubborn as you are, Jethro, and he will not disappoint any of you if he can help it." He gave Gibbs a pointed look. "I am sure you have time for coffee before the nurse comes to fetch us."

Gibbs sent Ducky a smirk, his first of the night. "I think you're right, Duck. Come on, DiNozzo."

"But I…yes, Boss." Tony followed Gibbs down the hall and out of sight before Ducky turned to the third member of the team.

"How are you feeling, Ziva?"

"I… I am still worried, Ducky. What if… what if he does not remember any of us? What if he does not wake up at all?"

"Have faith, my dear. Timothy will come back to us."

"As he was?"

"That, I do not know, but rest assured, he will always care about you. Hold on to that, and when the time comes, use it to help _him_."

"I will, Ducky. I will."

Ducky patted her on her shoulder and then headed back down the hall as Ziva lowered herself back into her chair.

All she could do now was wait… and be there for her friend.

TBC…

* * *

The story is done, so I'll post the last chapter tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

A Long Time Dead

Chapter 4

Tim opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. The room within his view was not his own, and he struggled to remember why he was not in his own bed, and more importantly, just what this place might be. Strange sounds drew his attention to his left and he let his gaze drift towards them. He saw a machine with wires coming off of it and with a start he realized they were attached to _him_. He saw tubes in his arms, along with a band of fabric, or maybe plastic, encircling his arm, and there was a strange device attached to his finger. Finally all of the information clicked into place.

_Hospital… What happened?_

His head ached, his chest ached, and when he tried to move the arm with all of the things attached, he could barely lift it from the bed. He felt a surge of panic as he wondered if he could move anything else, and sighed in relief when he saw the blanket at the end of the bed shift slightly as he moved his foot. The effort it took to perform the simple yet weak movements left him feeling completely drained.

_Must be pretty bad…_

Had he been in an accident? He remembered being in a hospital before with his leg broken, the result of a car accident. Had it happened again?

_Crashed my Camaro… No, that was before… What do I drive now?_

He turned his head to the right a noticed that he was not alone. There was another man slumped in the chair next to his bed, fast asleep. Tim thought he looked familiar and tried to concentrate on where he had seen the man before. A memory surfaced, but it didn't make much sense: an object flying past his face, and somehow he knew this man had thrown it.

"_You missed…"_

"_I meant to do that, Probie…"_

_Probie? That's not my name…is it? Why did he call me that?_

"_Come on, let's get out of here and go blow off some steam."_

"_Not tonight, Tony, I—"_

"_If you say 'I have a headache' I will smack you."_

_Tony…that's his name…What about me? Who am I?_

"_I know you, McGee. You're not going to get any sleep until you decompress a little."_

_McGee? Is that all? That can't be…_

"_Tim…"_

He felt a rush of relief._ Tim. Tim McGee. I know my name. And Tony calls me Probie. What does that mean? _He studied the man next to him. _Maybe I should ask him?_

He tried to say the other man's name, but all that came out was a soft croak and he winced. _Why does my throat hurt? _He thought about it for a moment._ Thirsty…I'll ask Tony for a drink…_

"Tony…"

The word was soft, but it woke the other man immediately. He sat up and looked at Tim, his eyes widening in surprise as Tim looked back.

"Tim?"

Tim blinked as he tried to work up enough strength to speak again and struggled to get his message out. "T-thir…sty."

Tony immediately jumped up and reached across Tim's chest. He could only stare, uncomprehending, as the man found what he was looking for and pressed the button attached to yet another wire. He then turned his attention back to the man on the bed and grinned.

"Damn, Tim, am I glad to see you. Not nice to scare us like that, Probie."

"W-why…do you…call me…that?"

The grin vanished and fear flashed in Tony's eyes but before he could respond a group of people in scrubs and lab coats rushed into the room. They spent the next several minutes poking and prodding, shining a light in Tim's eyes, and asking him questions. He was barely able to respond, but he finally made them understand what he really wanted. One of the group left and returned with a cup and a spoon. She placed a small amount of the ice from the cup in his mouth and Tim savored the sensation, closing his eyes as the cold soothed his throat. After speaking softly to Tony, the woman handed the cup over to him and left with the rest of the group. Tony returned to his chair and watched Tim with a worried expression on his face.

"More ice, Tim?"

He managed a nod and Tony placed another spoonful in Tim's mouth.

"T-thanks."

"Don't mention it Pro…Tim."

"P-probie. W-what does…that mean?"

"It's…a nickname. Do you remember…do you remember me calling you that before?"

"Yeah… you call…me that a lot…right?"

"No so much any more, but yeah, I do."

"Tony?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"W-what happened?"

A strange look crossed Tony's face. "What do you remember?"

Tim tried to think. "I had…a headache. Pills…gone. Sarah… left the bottle empty. Needed more." He winced in frustration. "Can't remember…anything else."

"It's OK, Tim. The important thing is, you're going to be fine."

"You…you look worried. Why?"

"You were in real bad shape, Tim."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough."

"Oh…"

Tim could barely keep his eyes open, but he wanted, no, _needed_ to know more.

"H-how long?"

"Oh man, Tim…it's been over two weeks. We thought you were going to break Gibbs' record."

"Gibbs…Boss."

"That's right."

"We…Who else?"

"Ziva, Abby, Ducky. Even Palmer. We've all been worried about you, Tim." Tony chuckled. "You know, Ziva is going to be really mad at you."

"Why?"

"She's been here with you every day, hoping you'd wake up, and you managed to pick the one night when she wasn't here."

"Sorry…"

"It's OK. I'm just…_really_ glad you woke up, Tim. Everyone else will be, too."

"OK…"

Finally Tim couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

XXX

Tony looked down at his partner and sighed as he quickly wiped the dampness from his cheeks and thought about his team. Their fears, spoken and unspoken, were finally going to be put to rest. Their friend was back.

Tony couldn't kid himself that everything was going to be perfectly normal right away, but he had hope, more than he had possessed during the past few weeks. As he watched his partner sleep, he decided it was time to share the news with someone who had been waiting for this day with even more anticipation than he had experienced, so he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

XXX

Ziva slowly opened the door to Tim's room and peered inside. He was awake, but the expression on his face gave her pause and she steeled herself before entering the room. It was not going to be a good day.

Tim's recovery was progressing, but not as quickly as he obviously wanted. His memory had mostly returned, save for a few blank spots that included the robbery, but he still had trouble concentrating on anything for long periods of time. He had finally regained the ability to comprehend written words, something that had been missing for the first few days after he awoke, but his grasp of numbers was slower to return. He became easily frustrated with his limitations, and would sometimes sink into a deep depression from which not even Ziva could draw him out. The two of them had grown closer during Tim's recovery, although she had not pressed for anything other than friendship. She knew he was going through too much now to even consider something so new and strange as a relationship, and she never even brought it up, although it was never far from her mind.

Tim's family had been in to see him several times, and Ziva had never mentioned to Sarah why Tim had been in the store that night. It was a burden that Ziva was unwilling to place on the younger woman, although she suspected that Penny knew the truth. It amazed Ziva how well she knew her grandchildren, and how well she seemed to know Tim's second family as well.

Ziva pulled herself from her musings and walked over to Tim's bed. She felt a lump in her throat when he didn't even acknowledge her presence. He really was having a bad day.

"Tim? How are you feeling?"

He just turned his head away and she sighed, biting back the frustration she felt when the progress he had made seemed to disappear overnight.

"What is wrong, McGee? Talk to me."

"She had a baby."

The strange statement shocked Ziva and it took her a moment to recover.

"Who had a baby?"

"The woman in the store. The one who died…she was buying baby things."

Her heart sank. Tim had regained another memory, but this one brought him no sense of joy or accomplishment.

"Yes, she did." Ziva had decided from the beginning to always tell Tim the truth about his memories. She believed it would, for the most part, be better for him in the long run. "A little girl."

"She won't remember her mother. She'll grow up without one. It's not right."

"No, it is not."

"I should have saved her…"

"You tried. We all know you did."

"It wasn't enough…never enough…too many died because of me."

"No, McGee. Do not do this. It was not your fault."

"Better off…without me."

"Do not say that!" Ziva felt a familiar surge of anger: at the men who had done this to Tim, and at Tim himself. "We want you here. _I_ want you here."

Tim just shook his head and lapsed back into silence, and Ziva repressed the urge to scream.

"Tim, please."

He turned to her, one eyebrow quirked in surprise at the use of his first name and she almost laughed. _This _was the McGee she knew and loved. She just wished he would surface more often.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Ziva."

"You did not. Even if that _was_ your intention."

He shook his head. "It wasn't. But…I think I need to be alone right now, Ziva. I'm sorry."

"Very well, but do not think you are escaping me for very long." She kissed his cheek and turned to leave. She would give him some space, since that is what he requested, but not for long… There was still too much work to do to get him back to normal.

She stepped through the door and stopped, startled to find a nurse standing there. The woman smiled at her with a sympathetic expression.

"It will be OK."

Ziva just shook her head and left. She didn't notice the nurse cautiously slip into McGee's room, closing the door behind her.

XXX

Tim watched Ziva leave and mentally cursed himself. He had no right to treat her like that, after all she had done for him, but he couldn't seem to help it. He knew his injury was partially to blame, and he did try to keep those awful feelings in check. Unfortunately right now they were still too strong to fight completely, and he was left with an even further sense of loss. He'd never be the same. He just had to accept it, and somehow try to convince Ziva that she deserved to be free of the burden she'd taken on by being there for him.

He heard the door click shut and looked up to see one of the nurses standing there, studying him with a sad expression on her face. He felt a twinge of anger. He didn't want pity, but he supposed he'd better get used to it.

"How are you feeling today, Tim?"

"Lousy." He hoped his attitude would dampen her sympathy and get her to leave. He didn't want to deal with anyone right now. She just smiled and checked his vital signs, and he submitted to the routine exam with little protest. She completed her routine and instead of leaving, she pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat down.

"Her name is Maya," the woman said without preamble, and Tim stared at her in shock.

"What?"

"The baby. The little girl whose mother died the night you were injured. He name is Maya. She just turned five months today."

"How…how do you know this?"

"She's my niece."

"You mean…"

"My sister's daughter."

"Oh, God…I'm so sorry…"

"Tim, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for."

"But—"

"I know what happened. I know that you tried to save her. I know that you are a good man, someone who didn't deserve what happened." She took a deep breath. "And it seems the only person who does think you deserve to be miserable is _you._"

"I should have done more…if I had, your niece wouldn't be growing up without out a mother."

"Maya has a family that adores her, Tim. She will not grow up without love, and that is what is most important. She'll have what she needs."

"But what about you? You lost your sister…"

"I know, and it hurts, but she… Kristin would not have wanted me to do what you are doing to yourself. She would not have wanted to be the source of such misery."

"I'm sorry…"

She patted his knee. "I know, Tim, but you need to relieve yourself of this burden. You are not only hurting yourself, but also those who care for you very deeply. I've watched your friends and family. They all care about you. In fact, I think I'd go as far as to say that they love you, Tim. They want you to be happy." She managed a smile. "You know there's an old Scottish proverb: _'Be happy while you're living, for you're a long time dead'_. I think if nothing else, what happened to my sister has shown us that life is far too short to spend it in misery. You would do well to heed that lesson."

"I don't know if I can."

"Well, you won't know unless you try."

He looked up at her and studied her face, remembering for the first time the face of the woman he had tried to save, and seeing the similarities. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's what I do. I help people who need it, just like you."

"I can't…I can't believe you're not angry."

"I am. But my anger is directed at the people who deserve it. You're not one of them. OK?"

Tim thought about what she had said. Could he be happy? Even with his problems, was it even possible?

_You won't know until you try…_

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could give you something to think about. See you tomorrow, Tim."

"OK."

She gave him one last smile and left. Tim leaned back and closed his eyes, going over everything she had said. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, and he had a long way to go to being normal, to being happy, but maybe…maybe it was worth it.

He heard the door open and looked up to see Ziva step in the room again, a worried look on her face. He gave her a genuine smile, the first he had managed since the incident, and she stared at him in surprise before returning the gesture.

"I see you are feeling better."

"I…kind of got a wake up call."

"That is good, yes?"

"Yes, very good. Ziva?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"Thank you…for everything. I should have told you this sooner, but… I am glad that you're my friend."

"I am glad, too, McGee."

Yes, definitely worth it.

The End.

* * *

So now you know where the title came from ;)


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